I WILL STAY ON THE PATH

When Sister Rosemary M. Wixom, the General Primary President, was here a few weeks ago, I had the great blessing of witnessing her interaction with some Tongan Primary children.  About 60 of them sang to her in both Tongan and English, and she left the podium to go down close to the children and spoke to them personally.

She spoke with a few children individually, asking for responses to questions or for volunteers to tell her something important they wanted her to know.  She asked the group some questions for the entire group to respond to, as well.  She asked the children, “Raise your hands to show me this – how many of you want to go back to live with your Heavenly Father?”  Of course, every single hand in the little Primary choir went up.

Then she asked, “How many of you want to go there alone?”  No hands.  The children just sat there.  Sister Wixom let the silence sink in for a few sentences, and then she turned to the adults in the room.  “It is our job to live so that we can go back to Heavenly Father WITH these children.”

Many years ago, I had a very cherished interchange with some young students who exacted a promise of me to continue to live my life in such a manner that I could help them.  Because of Sister Wixom’s visit, I had a second, with the Primary children in my little ward.

Sister Wixom taught the children how to say “I will stay on the path back to my Heavenly Father” in American Sign Language.  They practiced it many times with her, and she made points to the children and to the adults in the room each time they practiced it. So a few days later in Sunday Primary, most of the older children still remembered the signs, and we reviewed it together.

We practiced the signs, and we talked about how to stay on the path.  We talked about the importance of obeying the commandments, and staying true to our promises and covenants.  And at the close of our conversation, I looked at each child in the room, and asked, “Will you promise me today that you will stay true?  Will you stay on the path?”

“Yes,” came the chorus.

“Even when it’s hard?” I asked.

“Yes,” came an even firmer reply.

“Even when you’re sad, or you’re angry, or you’re feeling like no one loves you?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

In return, I made a promise that I would remember their names in my prayers.  I told them that if it was possible, I would like to come back to Tonga in 15 years and find them being true to the gospel – serving missions, marrying in the temple, serving responsibly in callings, helping others find a testimony. 

I have two wonderful sons.  I am not yet a grandmother, but I have at least 50 souls to pray for every night - among them the much-loved students who exacted my promise those many years ago, and now, these precious Primary children.  If the Lord will allow me to keep my wits about me, these children will be in my prayers for many years to come.  And praying for them will be my best motivation to stay on the path, too.

CHRISTMAS: A CHILD'S PERSPECTIVE

When I was about 9 years old, I remember being taught the passage of scripture in Matthew 8:20 – the one where the Savior says “the foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.”  That was the first scripture that made me sad – I felt sorry that Jesus had no place to lay his head.

Benjamin has that non-time-
 bound perspective.

A few days after I was introduced to that scripture, my mother came in to say goodnight to me, and found me hugging the far side of the bed, with an extra pillow on my bed.  “Why are you up against the wall?” she asked.   “I’m leaving room for Jesus,” I answered matter-of-factly.  “He doesn’t have anywhere to lay his head, so he can share my bed.”

Bless her heart, my mother didn’t say anything, she simply smiled and kissed me goodnight.  With the short attention span of childhood, my wall-hugging sleeping habits soon passed, but every time I come across that scripture, I smile.   And I bless my mom.

My mother allowed me to keep my simple, non-time bound perspective.  She probably chuckled about it with my father, but neither of them ever reproached me for thinking that the Savior of all mankind would deign to rest in a bed next to a 9-year old.  My faith was very simple; I knew that Jesus Christ loved me, and any loving person would respond positively to a heart-felt invitation.

Children are the best part of Christmas, and that is true in Tonga as well.  Christmas is different in a subsistence culture, but gifts are still shared.  One friend of mine remembers that as a child her mother would slice bread and butter it and send the children out to deliver platefuls to neighbors.  Often the family would give away all their food, but because their neighbors also shared, the family still had breakfast on Christmas morning.

Most Tongan homes are very humble.

Another friend remembers her father dragging her along to go caroling to the widows in the neighborhood.  She reluctantly sang at a few houses until one widow wept during “Silent Night”.  This little girl suddenly understood that she was giving a gift  - that the simple act of singing was a way to share.  Her attitude changed, and she happily made her way to the rest of the homes that Christmas morning. 

I think more at Christmas time than any other, I am reminded of the purity of a child’s perspective.  I need to make more heart-felt invitations, and be a more loving person and respond to others’ heart-felt invitations.  I need to remember the Tongatapu proverb, “Tonga’s only mountains are in our hearts,” and summit my own mountains by offering service more freely and showing gratitude for simple gifts.